


carapala

by AllegoriesInMediasRes



Series: Ramayana fics [35]
Category: Ramayana - Valmiki
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Espionage, Gen, Manipulation, Oneshot, Period-Typical Sexism, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26684575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllegoriesInMediasRes/pseuds/AllegoriesInMediasRes
Summary: Having finished his business at the tavern, Pradyut’s next stop is the nearest well. Wells boast a more reputable clientele than do taverns, but this also makes a spy’s job more difficult. Sober people are not as easy to manipulate. Not that this would make any difference to Pradyut, who prides himself on his diligence and efficiency. His employer has given him a job, and he will comply -- not just for the money, but for the sake of honor itself.carapala (Sanskrit): spy
Relationships: Background Rama/Sita
Series: Ramayana fics [35]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1105638
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	carapala

**Author's Note:**

> [Edit](https://allegoriesinmediasres.tumblr.com/post/630442744144396288/having-finished-his-business-at-the) on Tumblr.

Having finished his business at the tavern, Pradyut’s next stop is the nearest well. Wells boast a more reputable clientele than do taverns, but this also makes a spy’s job more difficult. Sober people are not as easy to manipulate. Not that this would make any difference to Pradyut, who prides himself on his diligence and efficiency. His employer has given him a job, and he will comply -- not just for the money, but for the sake of honor itself.

He insinuates himself into the knots of people surrounding the well, accepting a drink of water for himself as he listens to their conversations. Here and there, he catches snatches about Queen Sita living in Ravana’s palace for ten months. The _praja_ like their women within bounds, and Sita’s transgression has impinged their sensibilities, especially now that she is to bear an heir for the kingdom, an heir who should be beyond reproach. Their anger is palpable to Pradyut, a big, dark cloud. He waits and listens, judging their mood, until he sees the right moment to break in.

“It seems strange to me that Queen Sita, who chose to go with her husband for fourteen years into exile, should be the object of your rage,” he begins, his voice respectful but surprised. “Why, even her imprisonment in Lanka was because she wanted to give alms to a holy man!”

A man guffaws. Pradyut recognizes him as one of the palace guards, off duty.

“How can you trust women? It’s in their nature. No matter how sweetly she speaks to you today, tomorrow she will sprout fangs and sink them into you. That Kaikeyi once saved Dasharatha’s life in the middle of battle, and in the end, she asked him to banish his own son.”

He spits.

“So what if she chose to go with him? That was fourteen years ago, and today she’s a soiled wench. And as old Dasharatha was besotted with Kaikeyi, so will Rama be unto Sita.”

Pradyut’s blood runs cold. He cannot let them cast Sita down with the likes of Kaikeyi. Of course they hate the middle Queen Mother; their current disgust is rooted in the old resentment of Kaikeyi. The precedent she set, of a queen who hen-pecked her husband. Their anger at Sita will not be dispelled; it must be redirected. He needs their hatred of Kaikeyi, yes, but he needs to amplify it, to stroke it and raise it against their love for Sita. So that she is the black, black mud to Sita’s pearly-white lotus flower.

“Only then will King Rama, Queen Sita, and their coming child be permitted their happiness,” Pradyut’s employer had been sure to remind him.

He must act _now_.

“How dare you take Kaikeyi’s name in the same breath as Queen Sita’s?” he roars back, his voice echoing in the night. “What did Sita ever do but love and serve her husband? Why, it’s Kaikei’s fault she was even in the forest!”

Pradyut’s sudden outburst has silenced the idle chatter, and all eyes are on him now. _Fool,_ he curses himself. He does his best to adopt a thoughtful look, as though he is giving his next words serious contemplation. “Perhaps that was part of her scheme,” he says, his tone more tempered. “She _knew_ how loyal the princess of Mithila was to her husband. She must have hoped some tragedy or another would befall them there.”

Grim mutterings of agreement break out at this. Pradyut feigns a shudder. “Such wickedness only comes once in a thousand years. Impossible for anyone else to come close.”

Another chorus of approval rings out, and Pradyut, encouraged, continues, “But the gods were kind, and sent our king Janaki. Why else would she have become with child so soon after her coronation? It’s a sign of their favor!”

He must constantly remind them of the coming heir, the surest way to the people’s love. An unspoken reminder that Kaikeyi proved incapable of producing an heir, until Dasharatha propitiated the sage Rishyasringa and performed the yagna.

“Any demerit upon Maithili,” he announces, “it’s really a slur on Kaikeyi.”

This bold finale draws the enthusiastic reaction from his listeners so far, but it leaves Pradyut cold. He is doing exactly what his employer ordered, to taint every kindness Kaikeyi ever showed and to smooth Sita’s every imperfection, but his stomach still twinges at the exaggerations. He can never condone Kaikeyi’s eleventh-hour ultimatum, or ignore all that it wrought, but that does not erase the very real love she had for her husband, and for Rama for so many years -- even more than her own Bharata.

And while Sita is the best of women, it’s a disservice to the truth to ignore her mistakes. Her pettiness, her temper, her capacity to wound. It had been her whimsy that sent her husband after the golden deer, her wild suspicions that sent Lakshmana after him, and her foolhardiness that sent her straight into Ravana’s _pushpak vimana_. Of course, she had had only good intentions behind all three lapses. But hadn’t Kaikeyi’s natural concern for her son’s rights been at the root of her own catastrophic blunder?

He puts aside his thoughts. Ayodhya knows nothing of subtlety. He has built up his theme nicely, winning the crowds’ attention, and now he adds the finishing touch. “Kaikeyi deprived Kosala of two kings and a queen, in one bold stroke. She forced a crown onto her own son, and ensured that Dasharatha died without a single son at his side. Thanks to her, Queen Sita suffered in a demon’s clutches. King Rama punishes all criminals, and yet the greatest criminal of all still resides in the palace, in silks and perfumes!”

The well is once again buzzing with angry mutterings, as it was when Pradyut arrived, but all their resentment is aimed at Kaikeyi now, not Sita. He has turned their minds, just as the hunchback Manthara poisoned her queen’s mind. His work here is finished.

He slips away from them, and begins heading back towards the palace by means of darkened alleys and side roads. Secrecy is of the utmost priority for spies, and even more so for Pradyut, who is not part of the official royal spy network. King Rama does not know about the rumors regarding his wife’s chastity, nor does he know about the spies working to smear Kaikeyi’s name. Pradyuti’s employer had been very clear about keeping matters that way.

There are few vagrants on the streets, as Pradyut walks. Prince Bharata made Ayodhya ten times wealthier during his regency. Despite his distaste for kingship, he wore it well, and he left the realm in good shape for Rama.

 _He filled their coffers_ , Pradyut thinks, _but Bharata could not fill their hearts or bridle their tongues_.

“Nor could Bharata have,” his employer had said. “And Rama is too good-hearted to know what to do about such gossip.”

Not wanting to burden either sovereign, Pradyut’s employer had hired him and his fellow spies to know what to do. He makes his way now through the servants’ entrance and through the passageways that bring him to her chambers. 

Past reports have taught him that Queen Mother Kaikeyi values bluntness, and he relates verbatim the words he has spoken and heard this evening, every last ugly turn of phrase and lurid insinuation. The attitudes of the _avadhi_ , before and after his manipulations. How they are making their scapegoat, and thus forgetting their complaints against Queen Sita.

Kaikeyi listens in silence, before nodding once -- a single, sharp jerk of her head -- and dropping several silvers into his hand. Pradyut knows he should leave, but something about the way she holds herself impels him to ask, “And what next, Your Majesty?”

Her eyes raise to meet his own.

Pradyut swallows. “What will happen to you?”

She glances away. “The crowds want to oust a queen,” she states dully.

The Rajmata sighs, long and slow, and Pradyut sees her as she was in her prime, when she was a warrior queen and King Dasharatha’s favorite, and he sees her now, weary and aged. She took a great dare for her son’s rights, and in doing so, she found herself bereft of everything.

“The crowds want to oust a queen,” Kaikeyi repeats. “And they will not be satisfied until they see one gone.”

She bows her head, regal and resigned, and Pradyut knows himself an intruder. He sketches a hasty bow, and departs.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Avani’s fantastic fic [here](https://allegoriesinmediasres.tumblr.com/post/188715467766/rama-and-sita-never-overhear-the-dhobi-before-her)!


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